


Keep on Rockin' to It

by Linsky



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: It takes Patrick a few months to figure out just how much Jonny likes it when Patrick touches him in public.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 38
Kudos: 365
Collections: Social Distancing Together - a Hockey RPF Collection





	Keep on Rockin' to It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dixieland33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixieland33/gifts).



> This is not inspired by or related to the quarantine, but I hope this porny ficlet helps brighten everyone's socially distanced days. Stay safe, everyone!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://linskywords.tumblr.com)!

It takes Patrick a few months of being with Jonny to figure out just how much Jonny likes it when Patrick touches him in public.

It’s hard to pick up on at first, because they’re pretty much constantly wild to touch each other those first few months, whether they’re in public or not. It turns out ten-plus years of built-up sexual tension do not result in a slow start. Patrick loses track of the number of times they barely get a door shut behind them before they’re on each other, tearing their clothes off to get to skin. Basically the only reason they aren’t immediately trending on Twitter is that they’re both really really aware of how bad that would be, and that gives them just enough self-control not to fuck each other in the middle of the U.C.

It’s a good thing they didn’t start doing this when they were twenty-one, actually. Patrick’s not sure they would have had even that level of restraint.

By the time they’re a couple of months in, thought, they’ve started to come back to themselves a little. It’s not that Patrick wants any of it less, the slide of Jonny’s hands or the taste of his mouth or his quick gasping breaths as they build to a crescendo. If anything, Patrick feels like he’s enjoying it more now. But it’s easier to wait for the right time and place. It’s like they were working off a deficit, making up for all those years of wanting in silence, and now they finally have time to catch their breath. They can go slow, sink into it, and Patrick thinks he might like this even more: the long hours of Jonny pressed against him, the slow murmured words Jonny whispers into his skin, the miracle of Jonny’s unguarded body curled around him and wanting him.

Which means it’s really noticeable those times when Patrick touches Jonny, and Jonny gets hot and flustered like they’re two rookies who’ve only just figured out how to press two dicks together.

It’s just little stuff, at least at first. They’re in the health food store one afternoon, in the nutritional supplement aisle, and Patrick trails his fingers over the small of Jonny’s back at a moment when there’s no one around. Just a friendly touch, but Jonny gasps and hangs his head like Patrick just grabbed his dick or something. And then a few days later, when they’re standing in line at a coffee shop before practice, and Patrick touches his little finger to Jonny’s and sees him shudder. Maybe nothing, maybe he’s just cold—but as soon as they’re in the car again, Jonny’s grabbing Patrick’s hand and squeezing it and running his other hand up Patrick’s leg, his eyes burning into Patrick’s and his whole body taut with tension like they’ve only been fucking for three days and not three months.

That’s a tough one, because it gets Patrick going, too, and they have to make it through all of practice before he can go home and get Jonny’s cock into him. What a trial, this responsibility thing.

There’s more stuff like that. Surreptitious butt gropes that keep Jonny from being able to make conversation for a full five minutes afterward. Fingers lightly pressed to Jonny’s leg on an airplane that make Jonny pant loud enough to be heard over the sound of the engines. Even one time in the locker rooms when Patrick doesn’t touch Jonny at all: he just winks at him on the way to the showers, and Jonny blushes and walks straight into a wall.

So there’s probably something going on. Patrick’s not sure what, but he’s going to find out. He’s very into finding out about all the things that get Jonny turned on.

He thinks about not saying anything and just experimenting with different things, seeing if he can get more of a pattern. But they’ve been trying this whole thing where they’re really open with each other. As Jonny pointed out, maybe if they’d tried that sooner, they wouldn’t have spent years thinking they were the only one who desperately wanted to bang. So yeah, honesty is a great thing, and Patrick’s gonna try it.

He waits until they’ve just had sex. That’s usually a good time for honesty: when they’re both dazed and floating on how amazing they feel and how ridiculous it is that they get to do this with each other _whenever they want._ Jonny takes care of the condom and wraps himself around Patrick, nose nestled in his hair and heart beat thudding under his ear, and Patrick waits a few minutes and then says, “Does it get you going when I touch you in public?”

Jonny jerks against him. “Um. What?” he says.

Hm. Maybe it was a mistake to bring it up this way. If it’s enough to get Jonny tense like this right after sex, it’s a _lot._

That’s what they have honesty for, though. “Should I not have brought it up,” he murmurs into Jonny’s chest.

“No, I just—I don’t know what you mean,” Jonny says.

He totally does. Patrick hasn’t known Jonny for a dozen years not to be able to tell when he’s deflecting.

Maybe he should back off. But Patrick likes the honesty policy. He doesn’t want to l eave this conversation pretending they don’t both know what the other is talking about. He props himself up a little so he can see Jonny’s face. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “But if you tell me you like it, I might do more of it.”

He sees the change in Jonny’s face: the slow shift toward vulnerability. “Yeah?” Jonny says, voice a little strained.

“Yeah.” Patrick grins, trailing his fingers over the skin under Jonny’s collarbone. “So, you into it?”

“I mean.” Jonny bites his lip, looks down and away. There’s a flush rising in his cheeks. “It’s not like I, um. It’s just, if you’re touching me around other people, someone might see, and that would be bad, obviously, but…”

“But,” Patrick says, sticking his tongue out and waggling his eyebrows at Jonny.

Jonny raises his eyes to meet Patrick’s. What Patrick sees there—it’s like a blow to his chest. His breath catches, and he leans down, finds Jonny’s mouth and kisses the wet heat of it until they’re both panting again.

After that, they don’t talk about it much, but Patrick starts working things into their everyday activities: little teasing touches, when no one’s close enough that they’ll definitely see but there are a bunch of people close enough that they might. High risk, but he tries to stick to when they’re around the team, since he’s pretty sure they know, anyway. Or at least they think that Jonny and Patrick are weird enough about each other that they wouldn’t be surprised if they turned a corner too fast and saw Patrick leaning in to brush his lips against Jonny’s neck.

It’s fun. Patrick’s good at calculating angles; he figures out exactly how to stand in the locker room so that he can secretly brush the tips of his fingers against Jonny’s ass until Jonny gets dangerously hard in his shorts. He gets good at carrying on a conversation across the aisle on a flight while also tracing patterns against Jonny’s suit pants under a conveniently placed jacket. Jonny—well, Jonny isn’t good at hiding it at all, but at least people are used to him sleeping on planes with his mouth open. No one needs to know that he’s very, very far from sleeping.

Patrick’s favorite is one night when the team is at dinner. It’s not a pre-planned team dinner, so they’ve had to cram into a few booths, and Patrick is right up against Jonny, thighs pressed together. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Patrick to slide his hand over Jonny’s knee in the middle of Jonny’s monologue to the rookies about how to reduce water waste in hotels.

Jonny falters at the touch but gets it together again, talking smoothly about the environmental damage of washing so many sheets. Patrick leaves his hand there for a minute, lightly brushing his fingers back and forth against the fabric of Jonny’s jeans and letting Jonny find his stride again. Then he slowly moves his hand up Jonny’s thigh.

Jonny does pretty well with it, until Patrick’s fingers stray towards his inseam and he lets out a hiss. He recovers right away, but Patrick’s pretty sure his voice is breathier than it was. Patrick ups his game, moving his hand to the top of Jonny’s thigh, bridging that thick span of muscle that he loved looking at across the locker room even before he’d acknowledged what that meant. He turns his hand so that his fingers are stroking lightly along Jonny’s inseam, slow and hypnotic, almost but not quite reaching his dick.

Jonny trails off in the middle of a sentence. “Wait, so what are we supposed to be doing with our towels?” Boqy asks. He’s looking wide-eyed at Jonny the way the rookies always do when he starts in on one of his earnest spiels.

“I think hanging them up so they won’t be washed,” Durk says. “Right, Tazer?”

Jonny’s breathing hard. He has his mouth open, so it’s not that obvious, but Patrick can tell. “Yeah, that’s right,” he says in an impressively normal voice.

Hm. Patrick must not be doing a good enough job teasing Jonny if he can still sound like that. He lets his fingers wander a little, brushing just the smallest amount against the swell of Jonny’s dick.

Jonny twitches under the touch. “You okay, Tazer?” Kubi asks, frown etching itself between his brows.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jonny says, but he definitely sounds distracted. Patrick grins to himself and gives Jonny’s cock another glancing touch.

Jonny catches his wrist. And moves his hand more firmly to his cock.

Okay, Patrick can get into this. He can feel Jonny’s dick growing under his touch, swelling against the denim. Patrick finds the head and starts grinding his wrist against it, and Jonny digs his fingertips into Patrick’s thigh hard enough to bruise.

Jonny’s getting so worked up so fast. It’s amazing to watch. His cheeks are flushing, and he’s straining for air, mouth open in a pretty pink O. His eyelids are drifting shut, pleasure pulling them down until his eyelashes are fanned across his cheeks.

On the other side of the table, the rookies are staring at him with eyes even wider than usual.

Okay, Patrick doesn’t want to actually traumatize anyone here. Plus, his own dick is starting to get hard, and it doesn’t get _him_ off to walk through a restaurant with a visible boner. “You know, you do look kind of weird,” he says to Jonny. “Maybe we should go get you checked out?”

Jonny turns to look at him, eyes unfocused. “Huh?” he says, voice low and thick like syrup.

Patrick’s dick jumps just hearing him sound like that. “I said,” he says, leaning on the words and on Jonny’s dick, “maybe we should go…check you out?”

“Oh.” Jonny blinks. His eyes are swollen with pupil, black eating up the brown. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

They grab their jackets and hurry out of the booth, Patrick holding his strategically to hide the bulge in his pants. He aims toward the exit, but Jonny pulls them in a different direction, toward a hallway and a staircase that Patrick realizes is leading down to the bathrooms. “Jonny. Really?” he says.

Jonny gives him a look, the one that manages to be lost to the world and totally focused on Patrick at the same time. His hand is working on Patrick’s wrist, clenching and loosening. He’s breathing like there’s about to be a run on oxygen. Yeah, okay: really.

Patrick expects Jonny to pull them into the bathroom. But instead, Jonny pulls them right past the door, around a corner that must lead to a stockroom or something. Patrick’s looking around, wondering where they’re going from here, when Jonny surges against him and crowds him to the wall. He’s so obviously losing it, panting and grinding his hips against Patrick’s and pinning his wrists over his head. “Patrick,” he says, “Patrick,” like it’s the only word in his vocabulary.

Patrick fucking loves it when Jonny gets like this. He might have thought he’d object to being like this in public—but he’s fully hard, instantly, lost to everything except how it feels to have Jonny pinning him like this. He pushes up against Jonny, eager for more.

“Patrick,” Jonny says again, his voice more than half a moan. “Can I suck your cock? Can I— _please._ ”

Patrick’s cock jerks hard in his pants. Jonny’s sucked him off a bunch over the past few months, but it’s more about what it does for Patrick than any effect it has on Jonny. Hearing him ask for it like this, hoarse with hunger, eyes glazed with want—this is new. “Yeah,” Patrick says, taking a couple of tries to get the sound out. “Yeah, go for it.”

Jonny sinks to his knees like he can’t get there fast enough. He goes for Patrick’s fly.

His fingers are clumsy, and he can’t get the button open. He tries for a minute, then stops, pressing his mouth against the swell of Patrick’s cock and moaning. “Fuuuuck,” Patrick says, and Jonny sucks at the front of his jeans, dragging his tongue against the denim like he can’t wait a second longer.

Patrick’s gonna die. He’s actually gonna die if Jonny doesn’t suck him soon. He balls his fists at his sides, and Jonny finally gets his fly open, dragging down his underwear so fast that Patrick’s cock smacks back up against his stomach. Then Jonny’s just staring at his cock, rapt, like he’s looking at the thing he wants most in the world. His tongue makes a slow circle around his lips. Patrick’s cock spurts out a little bit of precome, and Jonny open his mouth and sucks him in.

Patrick gasps like he’s been punched. It’s so good: the slick slide of Jonny’s lips over the head of his cock. Jonny can’t quite fit the whole thing in his mouth but he tries, choking a little before he gets his fist around the shaft and concentrates on suckling the head. His mouth is really wet, sending shivers of pleasure shivering all over Patrick’s body, and the slurping sounds he makes echo down the hall.

“Fuck, Jonny, someone’s gonna hear,” Patrick mumbles. He doesn’t really mean it as anything, is too distracted to think about what he’s saying, but Jonny moans and sucks harder and sends an extra zing into Patrick’s stomach so that Patrick has to fight not to thrust too hard into his mouth.

He only sort of succeeds. His hips are twitching almost against his will at this point, matching the rhythm of Jonny’s greedy mouth. Jonny’s been braced against the wall, but now he lets go, just balancing on his knees, and with his other hand—

“Are you—are you getting yourself off?” Patrick croaks.

Jonny can’t say anything in response. But he groans again, and yeah, his hand is inside his pants, working at his cock.

“Fuck.” Patrick rolls his head against the wall. “Jonny, gonna kill me.” He can feel it building in the base of his spine, the slide of Jonny’s mouth too good for him to last. Not when Jonny’s working his own cock like he can’t wait even a second to get off. “It really gets you going, doesn’t it? Knowing that—that someone might come around the corner and see us. Knowing they’d see you here, on your knees, so hungry for my cock you’re gonna come from it—”

Jonny makes a broken sound. Patrick is breathing so harshly the whole building can probably hear, and he can’t even string together words anymore. His mind is coming apart. “Jonny,” he gets out, hips stuttering in Jonny’s mouth. “Jonny, I’m gonna—”

Jonny sucks him farther down, lips moving all the way down the shaft. Patrick gives a cry and breaks, his back arching and the world washing white, and he shoves deeper and pours his come down Jonny’s throat.

When his vision clears, Jonny’s still on his knees, his face pressed against Patrick’s stomach and his hand working furiously at his open fly. Patrick’s still shaky, but he knows how to be a good boyfriend. “Do you want me to—” he starts to ask, but Jonny shakes his head quickly. He gets his teeth into Patrick’s hip, biting down as much as he can, and then he’s going rigid, spurting into his hand.

“Oh,” Patrick says, staring down at him, dazed. He feels almost drunk. He reaches down a hand to Jonny, and Jonny sways as he stands up, his eyes bleary. But Patrick kisses him, and he smirks, his expression changing to something pretty close to smug.

Patrick laughs. “Pleased with yourself?”

“Yup,” Jonny says. He holds up his hand—the one covered in his come—and offers it to Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick’s stomach lurches. He knows it should be gross, but he always loves it, this part, and it’s even hotter now: standing in this hallway in the back of a restaurant in who-even-knows Michigan, sucking Jonny’s come from his fingers.

Jonny looks on with dark, possessive eyes while Patrick cleans his hand. Then he kisses Patrick hard, pressing him against the wall and sweeping the taste of come from his mouth.

They’re both panting again when they break the kiss. “So. This public thing,” Patrick says.

Jonny’s looking at him, intent, no shyness left. “You liked it, too,” he says.

Patrick doesn’t even bother to argue. It’s like he said to Jonny: if he admits to liking it, that just means it can happen again. And again. And again. In fact, maybe the Twitter thing isn’t too far off, because Patrick has a feeling this is going to be very, very hard to resist.


End file.
